


Storms in Our Blood

by tmariea (OccasionalArtist)



Series: Triptychs [2]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: (mildly), First Kiss, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, Thunderstorms, basically there's just a lot here, lightning seraph!Sorey, spans childhood. adolescence. and adulthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalArtist/pseuds/tmariea
Summary: Being raised by a lightning seraph, Sorey and Mikleo were never afraid of thunder and lightning.  They grew up with storms in their blood, and their bones, and in the way they define a family.  And no matter how many years might pass from the days spent with Zenrus out in the storms that swept Elysia in the summer, that would never change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now with this adorable fanart by tumblr user toradhart!! http://tmariea.tumblr.com/post/157814301465/so-back-a-while-ago-when-i-commissioned-this

“Sorey, Mikleo, wake up.”

Sorey felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a stirring beside him.  He cracked an eye open; in the dim light of the embers left in the fireplace, he could just barely make out the figure of their guardian.

“Gramps, what is it,” Mikleo asked from beside him, his voice slurred with sleep, and sat up.

“It’s the first storm of the season.  I thought you boys might want to come out with me.”

Sorey bolted up as well, all fogginess of sleep tossed off with just as much force as he shed their shared blanket.  For as long as he could remember, he and Mikleo had loved thunderstorms, despite the fact that the other seraphim in Elysia told them that was not the case when they had first arrived in the village.  Being raised by a lightning seraph, a storm was nothing to be afraid of; instead they were comforting and familiar, and with all of the fear stripped away, it was easy to see the beauty in the jagged lights and the deep, chest-shuddering booms that followed.

And yet, despite their lack of fear, up until this point Gramps had said they were too young to come with when he would go outside into a thunderstorm.  Instead, they would be left to press their noses to the window and watch as Zenrus stood in the rain and shaped the lightning to his will.  The show he would create for them with fantastical shapes that left green imprints on their vision was all well and good, but Sorey thought, at seven years old, that it was about time they got to experience it for themselves.

He dressed quickly, and then bounced on his heels while he waited for Mikleo to be ready.  The first faint rumbles started to roll through the sky overhead.  “Hurry up, hurry up!”

“It’s going to storm for hours, I bet,” Mikleo told him, and looking smug, made a show of pulling on his leggings as slowly as possible.

Sorey growled in frustration, and tackled Mikleo to the floor, where he proceeded to tickle him without mercy, despite the fact that his pants were still only half way on.  He ignored the shrieks and protests, and ineffective attempts to tickle him back, and said, “this is what you get!”

“Sorey, stop, stop!  We’re missing the storm!”

He paused, remembering what had set off this particular battle in the first place.  “Oh, right.”  While he did let Mikleo up, he also kept a watchful eye out for other antics which might require more tickle attacks.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Gramps was watching them too, one eyebrow raised, but without comment.

Thankfully, Mikleo finished getting dressed at a normal rate; Sorey suspected it had something to do with the way his amethyst eyes were starting to sparkle whenever a new peal of thunder rolled through the house.  He did, however, still look smug.  “I totally won that one.”

“No way, you couldn’t even touch me!”

“But you did every single thing I thought you would.  That’s a win.”

Their bickering continued back and forth as Gramps led them out of the house.  It stopped as soon as they stepped into the rain, just in time to watch a thick bolt of lightning strike the gate into the village.  The thunder’s boom came not a moment apart from the flash, and felt almost like a wind trying to bowl them over.  Sorey and Mikleo struggled to keep their feet for a moment before screaming and laughing in wonder, and running out into the grassy fields.  They stopped when they reached the pool at the center of the village.  It writhed with ripples from the rain, and Mikleo reached a hand forward as if to touch it, fascination painted across his face.

“Don’t do that.”  Sorey looked back to see Gramps making his way down the hill at a more sedate pace.  “The pillar might very well get struck, and then touching the pool would be like touching the lightning itself.”

Mikleo wheeled back a few steps, eyes wide and arms thrown out to prevent himself falling backward into the mud.  Sorey was tempted to tip him over, just to see what might happen, although he doubted he would come through the experience unscathed.  Instead, he opted to jog up the hill to meet Gramps, with Mikleo not far behind.  When they reached the older seraph, he gathered them close with an arm around each boy.

“Stay close and still,” he warned.  “The next one is coming.”

Sorey clutched the tails of Gramps’ cape in response and turned his face up to the clouds, blinking against the drops falling close to his eyes.  He was excited, and although he wouldn’t admit it, just a bit afraid.  That made for a powerful, heart-pounding rush when lightning lit the sky just above their heads.  He made a noise that was somewhere between a shriek and a laugh as the bolt split into many smaller tendrils above and twisted down to enclose them in the shape of a massive birdcage, decorated in crackling filigree.  It didn’t last long, but to Sorey, it was the most amazing moment.  Watching from a distance as they always had before, he’d had no idea that Gramps could make his creations so _detailed_.  A quick glance to the side revealed that Mikleo was just as enamored; he was staring into the space before them with wide-eyed, wide-mouthed amazement.

Gramps chuckled at their reactions, and held out a hand.  Sparks of his own creation gathered there, smaller and less volatile, and built themselves into a tiny Elysialark.  “And here’s the bird to match, but it’s only right that he be free.”  The little electric bird flapped its wings once, twice, and then flew off to join the storm. 

Gramps caught a few more bolts while the tempest was at its height, when the lightning strikes came fast and the thunder right on its heels.  These he shaped into more animals, and buildings, and even their faces – although the shapes were wavering and imperfect, and made them both laugh to see each other in the sky.  Once the storm started to calm, and the thunder rumble further off into the distance, he asked, “Mikleo, can you make something from the rain?”

Sorey whipped his head around so he could see Mikleo, who was nodding.  It should have occurred to him that his friend might be able to create pictures from his element, but Gramps was so much older and more powerful that the idea hadn’t crossed his mind.  If Mikleo could do it too, that would be so amazing!

Mikleo held out a hand and his face screwed up with effort; it was the kind of expression Sorey normally would tease him about, but he didn’t want to break his concentration.  Raindrops slowed to a halt above Mikleo’s palm and then wiggled together into a rope of water, which undulated for a moment, before curling up into a spiral.  “Haha, look, I did it!”

“That’s so cool!” Sorey exclaimed back, and shifted closer so that he could peer at it.  Ripples ran through the little spiral whenever another raindrop made contact, but it held its shape.

It was times like these that he felt the smallest pangs of jealousy for the seraphim.  They had all these awesome powers, could make beautiful things from their elements, and felt so much more attached to this world.  Humans could do… so little.  But this was Mikleo and Gramps; they were his family, and together they made up the parts of a storm.  Maybe that was the way Sorey fit into the world, as the one who could stand in the storm, see its beauty, and show his excitement.

The sky produced one last big rumble of thunder, breaking the small moment of reverie.  Mikleo, who had been busy concentrating, let out a startled yelp, and his water spiral collapsed over his palm.  Sorey began to laugh at the disgruntled look on his friend’s face, which earned him a jab to his side.

“Come on, boys,” Gramps said in a tone of voice that brooked no argument or continuation of their squabble, “Let’s all go inside and dry off.  Mikleo, you can make more in the next storm.”

Sorey and Mikleo looked at each other, both pairs of eyes alight.  That’s right, there would be more storms, more chances for creation and wonder.  Sorey couldn’t wait.

* * *

 

Judging by the darkness in the room when Sorey woke, it was still the middle of the night.  He was not sure what had woken him, and he was less than pleased; they had all stopped for the night in Ladylake after completing the trial of water, and everyone needed the rest.  In the bed next to him, Rose slumbered on with no disturbances apart from a tiny snore now and again.  There were no stirrings from within his vessel-space.  It seemed that he was the only one awake, for reasons unknown.

Sorey cast out his senses, listening for disturbances and feeling for the dark, unctuous sensation of malevolence against his Shepherd’s domain.  It would not be the first, nor likely the last, time they were woken in the middle of the night to fight a hellion.  What he found was neither a hellion’s domain nor a human calling for help, but off in the distance, the faint rumbles of an approaching storm.  He breathed a contented sigh and felt all of his limbs relax from their alertness as the sounds washed over him. 

It would be so easy to fall back asleep to the calming noises of thunder, but this was the first thunderstorm they’d encountered since leaving Elysia.  It would be quite the loss to not go out in it, and there was no way he would leave Mikleo out, either.  Sorey mentally prodded at his vessel space, knowing full well that he was going to wake everyone up, but it was the best idea he had.

“Is something the matter?” Lailah asked, immediately sharp and prepared for battle at the call of her Shepherd.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong.  It’s just, there’s a storm.”

Sorey felt a surge of excitement roll through him which was not his own, followed by a small blue light shooting from his chest.  Mikleo materialized in front of the window and cracked it open.  Without the shutters to block the sound, they could hear the rain as well as the thunder.

“This is what you woke us for?”  The dry comment echoed in Sorey’s head as he sat up and began pulling on his boots.

“Well, I really only wanted to wake Mikleo, but I couldn’t think of a good way to do that.  It might be for the best though – unless you want to get cold again, you’ll want to stay here.”

The others made a hasty exit at that.  Dezel grumbled something about ‘bothersome Shepherds,’ which Edna seconded.  “I’m going to go see if there’s still a fire downstairs.  If there’s not, you’re going to light me one,” she stated, and then dragged Lailah out of the room.  At the very least, she made sure to close the door quietly so as to not wake Rose.  Dezel slumped against the wall, looking as if he was not likely to move unless otherwise required.

Mikleo turned from the window to look at Sorey.  His eyes and hair shone in the faint light from the outside, and brought to mind all sorts of poetry.  “Hurry up,” he said with a smirk, ruining any comparisons to divine beings that might have been forming in Sorey’s head.

Sorey only grinned back, and maintained eye contact as he drew on his other boot with deliberation.  He knew this routine wouldn’t fly for long, but it was nice revenge for all the times as children Mikleo had done the same thing.

True to expectations, only a few seconds passed before Mikleo groaned and told him, “If you don’t put that boot on now, I am going to make it rain in here.  Then Rose will wake up.  Then we will both be dead.”

Okay, that was a far better threat than any threats of tickling he may have carried out.  He finished dressing posthaste, and let Mikleo grab his hand and drag him from the room.  They passed Lailah and Edna in the main room of the inn, in front of a fire that was far too big to be anything other than Lailah’s making, and then they were out onto the street.  The rain drenched them in moments, and it was cold, but that stopped being a concern as soon as a flash of lighting lit up the shapes of the clouds overhead without ever touching the ground.

It seemed that Mikleo was of the same mind as Sorey, because all it took was a look exchanged between them before they were racing down the street in the direction of the walkways outside the wall.  How amazing it would be to watch the lighting strike the lake!

They were not stopped at the gates out of the city.  The night watchman was too busy taking shelter from the rain in the gatehouse to worry about what appeared to be a lone boy splashing his way down the walk.  Once outside the wall, their race out toward the water resumed.  Sorey reached it first, and hopped up onto the low stone fence.  “I win this time,” he shouted, in order to be heard over the sound of raindrops thrashing the surface of the water.

“Only because I would rather not fall in the lake,” Mikleo replied as he came to stand just before the rail.  “And I’m not even the one who would drown if I did.”

“Oh come on, you wouldn’t let me drown.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Sorey was about to say that he was sure when a loud boom sounded behind him.  Startled, he jumped a bit and missed his footing, but before he could go tumbling into the water, a pair of hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him down to the solid walkway.  He stumbled at the sudden drop and then clutched onto Mikleo’s shoulders for support.

“I would rather you not test that theory.”

“No, maybe not,” Sorey replied, breathless with surprise.  It was a good cover for the fact that he was maybe just a bit breathless from the fact that Mikleo still had his arms around his waist, and it felt somehow right.  He had been getting twinges of such feelings since sometime around the start of their journey, and they always made him want to do silly things like spout off poetry, or imagine that maybe Mikleo was holding him just a moment longer than necessary on purpose too.  However, he only allowed himself to cling long enough to add a quick, “Thanks Mikleo,” before turning back to the lake.  It was just in time to see a bolt of lightning drop from the sky and hit the water, gilding the tops of the ripples in gold.

“Oh w…” Mikleo managed to say before the thunder washed out the rest of his words.

“Amazing,” Sorey echoed, once the thunder tapered off.  “This feels like home, doesn’t it?  It’s almost like Gramps is here with us.”

“Yeah."  A pause.  "I miss him too.”

They stood together in comfortable silence for a while, each wrapped in their own wonder at the light show over the lake.  Sorey barely noticed the time passing, or that he was soaked to the skin and starting to get cold.  And then the lightning was moving away, and with it the thunder, which left quiet gaps in the night for them to speak.  He did not feel the need to right away, but eventually he mentioned, “Pendrago was really a disappointment.  All of that rain and not a lick of lightning.”

“If it wasn’t quite so malevolent, I would have liked it just fine.”

He laughed.  “Of course you would.”

“Well sure.  All water has life to it, but rain feels like it’s even more alive than most.  Does that make sense?”  It only sort of did, but Sorey nodded.  Mikleo did not turn to look and his reaction.  “There are stories there, of where the rain came from, all the places it’s been.  And it’s fun to shape something that starts out so separate.”

“Would you?”

“Hm, what was that?”

“Would you make shapes in the rain?  I know you’re probably tired, but you never seem to get to use your artes just for the sake of it anymore.”

Mikleo finally tore his attention from the rain-washed lake.  “No, I’m fine,” he said, his tone betraying amusement at the request.  It was a very Sorey thing to ask for.  “What do you want me to make?”

“Anything you want.”            

“Anything, huh?”  Mikleo smirked and stepped back from the rail so he was in open space, then spread his arms.  For a moment, the drops around him seemed to freeze, before swirling about him in a sheet of water.  From it burst a whole flock of Elysialarks, which swooped low over Sorey’s head.  The fading rumbles of thunder took the place of their calls.

Sorey turned so he could watch as the watery birds few out over the lake before dissipating back into rain.  In that moment he was reminded of his thoughts as a child on how his own small human life pieced together with those of the seraphim.  For as surely as art needed a creator, there was also a place for those who could give back their joy and wonder.  And this was truly _wonderful_.

When he looked back, he had all intentions of making an offhand comment about showing off, but it died in his throat.  Mikleo had already moved onto his next working; he was surrounded by vines made of water, which burst forth into shimmering roses while the air around his face bloomed with smaller flowers.  The vines twisted about him in an intricate dance, almost as if he was a living trellis for them to climb, and every once in a while it seemed as if the water would duck in close to nuzzle against his skin.  In these moments his face would open up in delight, and his lips part in laughter.  Those were Sorey’s favorite kinds of expressions; he could drink them in forever.

The experience of being entranced by Mikleo was nothing new.  Sorey had been unable to take his eyes off of him throughout the entire water trial earlier that day.  He had watched, with a swirling, tightening feeling in his heart and stomach, as the seraph’s eyes shone with excitement over the architecture of Lefay, pride in his artes and cleverness, and determination to become stronger.  Mikleo was gorgeous, he had always known that, but this was something so inexplicably different.  As they stood together beside the lake, he realized that the feeling had not gone away.  Neither had the subtle changes in Mikleo’s bearing, but there was something even newer in his expression in this moment as their eyes met, something which Sorey could not place but desperately wanted to.

“Here, one for you,” he said.  Above his palm, he held a perfectly shaped anemone flower.  Sorey knew that if there was any color to the creation, it would be the same shade as Mikleo’s eyes.

Sorey gulped, and extended his own hand.  The watery flower moved with him as he drew it back and cradled it before his chest, the significance of it not lost on him.  Purple anemones were symbols of protection; this was a reaffirmation of their promises to support each other and to see them through this journey.  But they could also mean anticipation for something to come.  His heart beat unevenly to think that perhaps his fantasies of Mikleo sensing the changes between them were not so far-fetched after all.  This felt like an offer, like he was willing to discover where those changes might lead.

“Beautiful,” Sorey whispered, just audible over the sound of the rain on the lake.  He reached out his free hand to touch Mikleo’s cheek.  This was a different kind of touch than what they were accustomed to, but the seraph made no move to pull away.  Was this what he was waiting for?  There was only one way to find out.  Well, two, actually, but Sorey was not sure how to voice his thoughts, or that he could trust his voice if he did.

He leaned forward, acutely aware of each raindrop that rolled down Mikleo’s face.  He knew his own was beginning to flush despite the cold, and that his eyes wanted to close, but he wouldn’t let them.  And then their lips were meeting.  It was a cold and wet sensation, for obvious reasons, but his earlier conviction that being together like this was somehow right came flooding back.  Or maybe the flooding he felt had something to do with the water flower collapsing over his hand as Mikleo’s concentration broke.

The touch was brief, and then Sorey was moving back so he could search the seraph’s face for a reaction.  Mikleo’s eyes were soft, and a faint smile played at the corners of his lips.  He smiled in return, and opened his mouth to say something which he hoped would be romantic.  Instead, what came out was, “Does this mean I win?”

Mikleo threw his hands up in the air, and his expression morphed into one of disbelief.  “You know what, I think for that I might not let you do it again.”

“Wait, you were going to let me kiss you again?”

“Key word there is _were_.  Now, you are out of luck.”

Sorey let his face fall.  He knew Mikleo was teasing.  He also knew he had a great puppy dog face, and he knew how to put it to proper use.

Mikleo sighed in the way that said he could not believe Sorey was using that trick again.  “Just once more, okay.  Then we need to go inside.  You felt like an ice cube.”

“So did you.”

“That is rather my natural state of being.  You, not so much.”  This time, he was the one to step forward and lean up into the kiss, his hand moving to curl around the back of Sorey’s neck.  The relaxed lines of his body were as good a confirmation as any that his annoyance was all for show.

This kiss they allowed to linger just a moment longer than the last, taking the time to press closer and experience the wonder of this new way of coming together.  Sorey was just a bit sad, and a lot colder, when they parted, but it would be okay.  He had the feeling that these were just the first kisses of many.  And with any luck, he could convince Mikleo to curl up with him in front of Lailah’s fire back at the inn so they could listen to the last of the storm.

* * *

 

Sorey’s first thunderstorm after his long sleep and rebirth as a lightning seraph had been a rocky experience.  Mikleo had taken him outside as soon as they heard the first rumbles of thunder, and he had stood under the gray skies trying to open himself to an element he still did not know how to fully control.  Instead of energy, he had found himself flooded with memories, a flow of hundreds of thunderstorms from their childhood and adolescence.  He remembered how a storm made him feel safe, made him feel like he was surrounded by his family; he remembered for the first time since his awakening Gramps’ face while he created beautiful things from a storm.  And Gramps… oh, Gramps… he should be there with them still.

Instead of practicing with his element, Sorey and Mikleo had knelt on the ground in the rain, while Sorey wept his way through a lifetime of joyous memories tempered bittersweet with loss.  They had stayed there long after the thunder quieted and the rain tapered off.

Grief was not something easily washed away in a single night.  The things that were missing still prickled and stung for a rainy season and more; Sorey was not sure they would ever stop stinging.  But he and Mikleo still took every chance to go out into the rain and the lightning, to feel as if in some way Gramps was still watching over them, and to celebrate the fact that now, together, _they_ were a storm.

At least, they got to play in as many storms as they wished when the season was right.  There hadn’t been a good bit of lightning in Elysia for months, and so Sorey had been antsy and unable to sit still all day as he sensed the building electricity in the air.  Mikleo, for the most part, had put up with his restlessness with a good-natured laugh or two and only minimal shaking of his head.

Once the sun set, Sorey did his best to calm down enough for some reading.  He did a good enough job, at least, of not fidgeting because Mikleo, who as tucked close to his side with a book of his own, made no comment.  But he still couldn’t concentrate well enough to take in the words on the page.  He had plans for this storm, ones that made his stomach flutter with nervousness.

When Mikleo put his book aside and curled even closer under the blankets of their bed, Sorey did as well, but he gave up sleep as a lost cause.  Instead, he stroked his love’s long hair while he listened for the rain to start.  It finally did, in the lightest of taps against their roof, sometime in the early hours of the morning.  He placed a gentle kiss at Mikleo’s temple, earning himself a sleepy mumble.

“Wake up, the rain started.”

“Must I?  I’m comfortable here, and there will be other storms.”

“Please?  There’s something I want to show you.”

“Alright then, I suppose I can come out with you, on the condition that you keep playing with my hair when we come back.”

That was not a request Sorey would ever dream of denying.  He was just about as obsessed with Mikleo’s hair as the water seraph was with having it touched.  It seemed as if everything about Mikleo had only gotten more amazing in their time apart, and sometimes Sorey felt as if he would burst with the intensity of how much he loved him.  “I’ll do anything you like,” he said, and gave Mikleo another quick kiss, this time on the lips, before taking his hand and pulling him out of bed toward the door.

“Are we really going out in our sleep clothes?”

“Yep!” Sorey replied.  He knew he didn’t have the patience for their usual teasing tonight.  He also hoped his voice didn’t betray the fact that his heart beat fast with a combination of nerves and excitement.  It slowed once they stepped into the rainy air, though; the smell of the rain and the sound of distant thunder had always been calming.

He let go of Mikleo’s hand, stepped back so they were facing each other, and waited.  The sky crackled and writhed with energy.  Sorey could feel the sparks he always carried with him now dancing about in response.  He stood, quietly, patiently, feeling for the moment when the clouds would become too heavy with it and send their burden down to meet him.

The half of him that wasn’t sensing the storm watched Mikleo.  He looked bemused, for all this was not the first time he had been dragged out in the middle of the night for a storm.  But his gaze was also fond, and it made Sorey’s personal sparks pop and flare.  His hair was probably standing on end by now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Finally, the storm let loose the first bolt of lightning.  It was a strong one, perfect for him to catch and shape.  There was something to it, too, that felt like an approval, like Gramps was still here for them.  He grabbed the bolt from the sky with his power before it could touch the ground, and bent it to his will.  Controlling lightning was always a challenge, but exhilarating.  It had taken him months to learn to form it into words, taking every storm he could find and writing silly things in the sky from light and power until he could get every letter right.

To Sorey, it felt as if it took an eon to shape his captured bolt, but it was in reality no more than a handful of seconds.  Lightning moves fast, and he had learned to pace himself to keep up.  Done, he turned back to Mikleo with a wide smile, searching for what his reaction would be to the most important words Sorey had ever written.  Behind him, the sky glowed with, “Luzrov Rulay, will you marry me?”

Sorey could only hold the lightning in place for a moment.  When he let it go, it crashed into the ground with a spectacular boom that made him stumble forward a few steps and set his ears to ringing.  Once he righted himself, he could see that Mikleo had his face buried in his hands.  Sorey’s heart lurched for a moment, until the rain began to move.  It was slow, as if the single word bloomed out of the falling drops.  “Yes.”  When Mikleo looked up again, his eyes were wet – with rain or tears, Sorey was not certain – but he wore a soft, joyous smile.

Sorey gave an excited shout and leapt forward to embrace Mikleo.  The momentum spun them about, and their laughter was lost to the sound of the rain.

This time, Mikleo hid his face in the crook of Sorey’s neck, and said, “Of course I will.” And when they moved to meet each other in a kiss, it was as wild and exciting and right as a storm.

**Author's Note:**

> Meanings of anemone flowers taken from this website if you’re interested: http://www.flowermeaning.com/anemone-flower-meaning/ I was particularly focused on the symbolism of each color of anemone flower, since overall there are lots of meanings and some of them conflict.


End file.
